Never Think
by Summersetlights
Summary: As Elijah Goldsworthy prepares to jump off a bridge, no other than Glen Martin saves him. Against Eli's wishes, he finds himself at the Martin house, deep in conversation with a past lover...


**_Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. You'd know if I did, because Sav would still be on._**

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><p>He says hello to the brick wall, and wishes it a good day, because he really is a good person. It's the circumstances and the loss of faith that make his edges rough and see-through. He goes on about his day, says goodbye to the daisies and the birds, because the wall talked to him. He mutters to himself and checks his watch, and asks why everything fell apart. He wants an answer, but turns it into a rhetorical question when he notices that he's alone- in more ways than one.<p>

Elijah Goldsworthy feels the world churning beneath him, clouding his thought and reason. The air is cold on his flesh, and it moves him from place-to-place, not allowing him to stop for a moment. His lungs are broken and fragile and they scream at him to stop, because it's too much, but he continues.

He's so insignificant; he's the useless transition between light and dark. He's the grey that gets overlooked, because he's neither too bright nor too dark. He's an endless shade of restless color, which fades into the air and counts as poison. Because of being nothing, he turns others into nothing. Because he's poison, he makes the world die and suffer.

Just because he can.

One thing that you should know about him is that he has his good days. He has his days where the night is just a small step to get to the light. These days are scattered, so scattered that they are almost never near. He's a boy of seventeen, but too messed up to know that. He's fragile in the heart, and he doesn't know how that even happened. His heart is like a flame on a candle. With just a blow- he's gone. With just a few more moments, the only thing available from him would be the hot wax. He'd be gone, and troubled, even more than before.

Now, he isn't sure how he gets to the bridge. He isn't sure why people are calling out to him. He isn't sure what he's doing or how he's even living or what his name is. He's lost and he can't breathe and the rushing water below looks like a lake that he used to go to when he was little. He wants to join the water and feel the cool liquid find the creases throughout his body and fill it. He wants to just jump, and fly.

He gives the space around him his air and he closes his eyes, and he learns how it feels to not breathe. It's lovely and scary all at once. He feels golden and healthy, because he's dying. And that's so ironic that he laughs. He laughs and laughs like a crazy person, because he thinks that it's about damn time that he shows the world who he really is.

His foot is airborne, and just the air underneath him is enough for him to smile. Everything is making sense and coming together, just with the hint of freedom he's feeling. And he puts out his hand, trying to get the same feeling, but nothing comes. He knows that if he wants more freedom, he'll have to take the jump. Now, he can hear the people in their cars, shouting and screaming. They're pleading, but he's noticed that none of them have come over to him, to help him. They don't want to be near a crazy person, he figures. They don't want to save someone that'll die anyway, because there's no point in that.

He needs peace to make this decision. The cars on the bridge are beeping and little children are sobbing, and they won't let him think. Elijah Goldsworthy doesn't like chaos outside of his mind. And it's like these people want him to jump, with their lack of silence.

He shuffles closer to the edge and there's a collective and chilling gasp from the people safe inside their warm European cars. He knows that it's wrong, but he revels in that noise. For once, he is feeling attention. For once, people know just how crazy he is.

He makes a countdown in his clotted head. He starts at five; because he doesn't want to wait too long, in case the watching people lose interest.

5. He hums happily, and cackles, because this is the last time that he'll hum.

4. He looks behind him, giving everyone a smile, watches their relief, and then listens to their shouts when he turns back to the water.

3. He's wondering why he didn't start at three.

2. He thinks of the two girls that he lost. The first to death and the other to his insane qualities.

1. He says goodbye to the world, and he lets his hatred go.

He lets his one foot hang off again, and he's testing the waters. He's testing his sanity and his thoughts, and suddenly, when a hand grabs his coat arm and yanks it back, he knows that he was testing everyone. He was testing someone, anyone. He just wanted to be saved, just to see how it felt. The hand is strong and rough, and Eli knows that he's too weak to fight. He doesn't even know if he wants to fight, because the strong hand has him. He doesn't want to look back at the person that saved him, because he's sure that this person will find him crazy. He just doesn't want to disappoint. Not when freedom was so close.

"God, kid, you're shivering." The voice is gentle, and Eli wants to cry at the softness in it. It's like velvet, but wise enough to hold onto. He wipes the single tear away, and clears his throat, not really sure whether he wants to thank the stranger or run back to the edge.

"I was just looking at the water below." Eli tries, and he's going back to his usual denial of his problems.

"I've lived life. I know the difference of watching and wishing. I know death and life, son. Trust me; it's all going to be okay. Can you trust me on this one?"

"I don't know." Eli answers, but he knows that he can, for some reason.

"Can you trust me enough to let me drive you home? Or at least get you warm?"

Eli shrugs, even though that sounds lovely. Though, he doesn't want to go home just yet. He turns around and is surprised when Glen Martin stands in front of him, with his shirt smelling of wood and his lips chapped from being in the cold. Eli winces, and then relaxes when Glen doesn't notice him. Eli had spoken to him at his camp before everyone left. He was nice, a bit distracted at times, but most of the time Glen was kind.

"I don't think that I want to go home just yet." Eli mutters, and steps away from the man. Glen seems a bit puzzled, but he nods, trying to be understanding.

"Um, well, I want you to understand that I don't feel comfortable with you being alone, until you're ready to see your parents. I'll take you to my house," Eli tries to speak, but Glen holds up a hand, "I'm not a bad man, there are no catches, I just want you to be safe. I have a warm house, my wife is making dinner right now, I have a son and step-daughter who could keep you company. Does that sound okay?"

Eli isn't sure why he says that it's okay. Because it isn't. He knew everyone at the Martin house. He knew them all, and wishes that he could be able to say that he didn't. But what could he say to the man that just saved his life? _Oh, sorry, but your step-daughter is the last person I thought about before I almost lost my life! _or _Wow! You're a Martin? Yeah, last year, I tried to break up your two kids. Good times had by all!_

He doesn't want to go through with it, but the man's face was pained and tense, so Eli does something that he hates himself for.

"Okay."

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The drive is awkward, mostly because Glen continues to open his mouth up and close it. Eli wants to shout at him to just speak, but he figures that that would be classified at rude, so he decides against it. Mr. Martin drives a silver Volvo, and Eli laughs a little, because he can imagine Clare freaking out at the type of car.

"My son, Jake," Glen finally begins, and Eli smirks at the mention of Jake, " had a rather hard time adjusting to the death of his mother. He had…a couple of close calls, much like the one you had back there. I just…I don't know your parents, or you for that matter, but I can tell you that they care-"

"I know." He says quietly, and clears his throat, "I didn't want to go home, because I knew that they'd just be disappointed. I've been known to do this…and I'm just afraid that they will give up someday…and I'm not ready for that day yet. It's, like, I can see myself getting crazier and absolutely apeshit, but I can't quite stop it, because it starts when I'm completely…gone. It sneaks on me, and I don't know how, and I don't like how the people I love get stuck with my craziness. It's not fair to them."

Eli leans back in his seat, and thinks about what Glen said earlier about Jake. He can't seem to imagine Jake having "close calls". He's usually very smooth and suave, almost stone-like. Eli actually admires Jake for that reason, but now, he respects him. For what, he doesn't know.

"Look, your loved ones are going to love you no matter how much you fuck up. Or, no matter how fucked up you think you are. These people are supposed to share your weight, you know? They're supposed to carry you once in a while. And I know that I'm sounding like Dr. Phil right now, but I'm just telling you how it is. It's okay to give people your problems every once in a while."

"I did, though. I finally felt comfortable to give someone everything…and _she_ couldn't take it. Not that I blame her, but that's what's happens when I give someone all of my feelings and thoughts and anger. It just blows up in my face."

Glen laughs, not a funny laugh, but a small one before he turns a corner. They're almost to the house, and Eli's palms are sweating more than usual.

"That's why you can't give your life to one person. That's not fair to you or that person. Spread yourself around with people. Trust is hard, but it's easy when you finally give in and learn to let people in."

"You _do_ sound like Dr. Phil."

"…In a good or bad way?"

"Well, I don't know. I've never actually watched Dr. Phil. But, in a good way. You're easy to talk to, and I don't say that to anyone."

Glen smiles, and laughs a real laugh. "I'm glad that I am. Just tell that to my son, and I'll believe you."

Eli wants to tell Glen that Jake wouldn't exactly listen to him, considering their previous history, but he lets the father dream. He doesn't want to let him down by professing that he's absolutely in love with his stepdaughter and has a slight hate for his son. He thinks that that would be a bit out of line, so he smiles at him, and dreads the house that he spent most of last year at.

It's hard for Eli to think about. It's strange to believe that he and Clare did actually happen, considering that they never talk. He likes how he was with Clare. The earlier days with Clare, that is. He can honestly say that he never felt so natural with someone. Everything was okay with her, but then Fitz happen. Eli doesn't blame Fitz (or says he doesn't), because he knows that he was just a time bomb waiting to go off, with or without Fitz. And then the crash of Morty. And then Jake. And then Imogen.

And then life.

Eli thinks about Jake again, and wonders if maybe in some shape or form, they're alike. Maybe like Eli, Jake is just as lost, but he's the type to hide it and throw it away until it floats back.

"I'm sure your son is like me," Eli begins, "Maybe he just doesn't want to disappoint his father."

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It takes three deep breaths to get Eli out of the Volvo. It takes seven seconds of a hum to actually move. And it takes twenty steps to get to the porch. Eli looks at the back of Mr. Martin and hopes that it's all a dream. Or, he hopes that neither Jake nor Clare is home. That's all he wants.

Glen fumbles with the door and keys. They both have bags of groceries in their hands, from Glen's trip before picking up Eli, and Eli tries not to crush the eggs in his arms.

"I'm Glen, by the way. Glen Martin."

"Er, Eli. Eli Goldsworthy." He hopes that he doesn't remember him.

Glen Martin doesn't remember anything, and he opens up the front door, letting the warm air out. Eli smells a certain perfume that makes him shiver. It's sweet and smells like sunshine, and Eli can remember the last time he smelled it. It was when he found one of her night shirts under his bed, a month ago.

Mrs. Edw-Martin shouts a welcome from the kitchen, and Glen smiles at Eli, and signals for him to follow him. Eli smiles a wince, and follows, and then feels his stomach drop when Clare Edwards stirs something in a pot on the stove.

Fight or flight kicks in and he wants flight. He gets that feeling of wanting to fly again, because even in pajamas, she looks lovely. She looks warm and soft, and everything he wants.

And then she sees him.

It stops. The atmosphere. Eli can't seem to breathe. Air seems like a foreign word and he can't remember what it feels like to breathe.

"Eli?"

"…Me?"

"Well, yes…you are Eli, aren't you?"

Glen smiles uncomfortably between them, and Eli finds it to be comical when his eyes freeze and a gasp leaves his mouth. Eli knows then that Glen knows exactly who he is.

"Eli was…he…," Glen looks to Eli for help, to help explain his appearance, but all Eli does is stare at Clare and learn how to not seem awkward, "He helped me with the groceries. I asked him to, he agreed to it. I'm very thankful for his help."

Mrs. Martin and Clare both nod robotically, like they didn't get in all the information, but didn't exactly want to know. It's awkward and silent in the house, and the only sounds are footsteps above them. Probably from Jake. Eli smiles and clears his throat.

"Well, um, it was nice carrying in your groceries and thank you for, you know, but I should probably go-"

"Nonsense!" Glen says, and Eli wants to cry. He doesn't want to awkwardly stay, looking at his sweetest downfall, the girl with the red lips and a vocabulary to match. He doesn't want to pretend that everything is okay and dandy, because it's not. And he fears that it never will. He just wants to be alone, because he finds that nothing is worse than staring at a loved one as they stare at you with indifference. It's odd, because he wants to tell her how long her hair is getting, and he can tell that he just wants him out of her house.

"Yeah, Eli!" Clare smiles, and steps closer, "You should stay for dinner...?" She drifts off at the end, silently asking her parents for permission. Eli finds nothing regretful on Clare's face, and he wonders if she's not doing this to just be nice.

"Of course." Glen says, his voice firm and strong. Confident. And it's silently spoken that no one can say anything different. Eli's thankful for the man, for being so kind to him, even though they just met. It's nice to know that strangers can do good, too.

"Do you want to come upstairs, Eli? You look freezing, maybe I'll get you a coat? A blanket?" Clare starts to trail out of the kitchen, motioning Eli to follow her.

"You know, I don't actually need anything. I'm not really cold."

Clare doesn't answer until they aren't going to be heard, and she turns around swiftly and smiles mischievously- though, she isn't very mischievous, but he finds it to be cute- ,and she whispers in his ear.

"I know. I just want you to come upstairs."

Eli has never blushed so hard in his life, and he hopes that it never happens again.

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"So, what were you really doing with Glen? He's more than capable to bring in his groceries, so..." Clare looks up hopefully, and she's being playful, but seems to know that the answer is not as easy as they both want it to be.

"I tried to kill myself."

"Why?" She doesn't look surprised, which kills him, but she looks pained, but in a way that resembles the way parents pretend to look happy during a divorce- it's forced and wrong.

Eli picks his words carefully. Sentences form in his head and phrases run together. What can he say? To say that life merely was too much is vague, and not satisfactory. He thinks of a reason to go with his former sentence. He wants a couple of words to explain why. He wants it to be that easy to just write it off quickly, to give her an answer that will make sense and seems almost logical. But words are scattered and his lips are dry, so he tries the best he can.

"It seemed like the right thing to do."

"It isn't, though. It isn't."

Eli shrugs, and attempts a smile, though it feels like a frown. "It was, though. At the moment, it seemed like the answer. I'm not sure about what I believe about it now, but it seemed like an answer then. I just...just please don't look me like that. Don't pity me."

Clare pats next to her, on the bed, and Eli comes closer. "I'm not pitying you, Eli. I'm worried. This is my first time seeing you since before summer break. I've been meaning to call you...to ask you how you are, but I'm not sure if I have the right to."

"I would have enjoyed your calls. It's nice to talk to people sometimes. It shows me that I'm not as crazy as I sometimes think I am." The bed creaks under his weight, and he moves back, trying not to be too close to Clare on the bed. The blanket from where he sat before is wrinkled and he winces, and smoothes it out with his rough and steady hand. The fabric is soft beneath his fingers.

"You aren't crazy, Eli. Well, you are, but so is everyone else. We all are...a bit weird and crazy, it's okay. I think that the crazier we are, the more potential we have for being a human."

He loves this side of Clare. The side that is very thoughtful, and speaks as though no one listens. He finds out who she is in these brief times, and they mean the world to him. Her voice becomes quiet, and her eyes turn a brighter blue, and often- if the conversation gets long, a tear forms in her eye. It's a sight that he's sure that he'll never forget.

"We aren't human already?" He asks, when she doesn't talk, and she still doesn't answer, and he's afraid that this side of Clare is gone for the moment.

"Well, I think that we're...something. We're just dirt when we start off. I don't think that we can just yet call ourselves human. It sounds weird, but I think that we have to earn the label of being called a human. For me, a human is someone who is kind and vibrant and a well-rounded person. I don't know, I think that with craziness, comes mistakes. And with mistakes, comes the title of being a human- hence what I said earlier. And, I think that you're more human than the rest of us. I can't tell you how many times I've dreamt of death, to just end the life I was given. But, I hold it in and I hold in my feelings, and I hold in my craziness, because it scares me. But you, God, Eli. You are...brave. I swear by it. Not just anyone can outwardly say that they're crazy, the kind of crazy that could lead to, you know, death."

Eli isn't sure what is appropriate to say. From habit, he wants to say thank you, but that doesn't fit, so he sticks with a slight hum. He licks his lips, and this time, they don't feel as chapped, and it seems that talking is becoming easier as Clare Edwards breaks down her thoughts in front of him.

"But, I don't feel brave. When I was on the bridge, looking at the water below me, I was a coward. I was done. I was done with something that hadn't even started. I was gone, totally gone. I admit my craziness, because it's so apparent that anyone could see it from a mile off. I'm not right. I'm not normal. I'm not brave, Clare. I'm transparent. And I don't have a reason to be. I'm just a hopeless case, and I'm not sure why you are even thinking of calling me a human, or, at least your terms of being a human. I'm just Eli, and I don't even know who that is."

Clare crawls closer to him, her mouth turns into a mangles twist of a smile, and she cups his cheek. And he's gone. He forgets what everything is, because he hasn't been touched by her like this in ages, and it feels warm and golden. It feels okay. But, it doesn't, though. He thinks of what Glen said, how you couldn't spread your life and problems on just one person. And he can see himself doing that with Clare again, because she's something a bit heavenly. So, he tells his heart to quiet down, and just enjoys the moment.

"You know, I'm not sure if anyone ever told you this before, but you have a beautiful soul."

"Thanks, I polish it every day."

Clare rolls her eyes, but backs away. She's sharp again, and she lost her spacey aura, and Eli's almost glad that the atmosphere isn't so tense. He likes his talks with Clare, but he likes light topics as well. The bed shifts, and he looks up to see Clare in a different position. She's lying on her back, with her eyes closed. She looks calm and older than what he's been seeing. Her birthmark pokes through her pink shirt that hangs off of her shoulder. She looks unreal, and Eli's afraid to touch her, because he believes that she'll break. And that's the last thing that he wants.

"I thought of you," He says shakily, wondering if this is too much, "Before I almost jumped, I thought of you. I hoped that you were okay. I...I wanted you to be okay."

Her eyes open slowly, and they are shining with something that Eli hates. He hates tears. They seem unnatural to him. They seem horrible and not worth it.

Clare pats the spot next to her, and he lies down next to her, keeping the appropriate space away. He plays with the necklace on his neck, and watches her face contort with different emotions.

"You were about to kill yourself, and you think of me? God, Eli. I'm not worth that."

"Sorry, maybe next time I'll think about world peace."

"_Next time_?"

"You never know." He answers this honestly, and that's the thing, he feels okay saying the truth. And that's the other thing, he always feels okay with telling Clare the truth. She doesn't think less of him or even scold him. She listens, because that's how she is and how she thinks.

"If you can, can you promise me that you won't? I don't think that I can live in an Eli-less world." Her eyes fall to the bedspread, and Eli lets a genuine smile float across his face. It's nice to be told that someone enjoys your life.

"I'm not sure, Clare, but I think I can. Life is a bit more colorful in a world in which you live in."

Silence became their friend then. And the peace surrounded them, and they both couldn't see a world where death was an option, because life seems beautiful at the moment. They both know that there will come a day where they might fall and never fix their broken legs, but that doesn't matter, because they are in the moment. And it's warm. And it's kind. And it's wise.

And it's life.

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><p><strong><em>Do not even ask me what this is, because I will not answer. Because I don't know either. It's weird. I know.<em>**

**_A review would be lovely!_**


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